


Leftover moments of a broken heart

by mrstotten



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-24
Updated: 2012-06-24
Packaged: 2017-11-08 11:51:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/442915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrstotten/pseuds/mrstotten
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When injury forces them together Dean and Castiel take another look at what they might mean to each other.</p><p>Written during Season 4</p><p>Beta'd by The awesomeautumn_lilacs without her this fic would be of the much suckier variety. Any and all remaining errors are all mine.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Leftover moments of a broken heart

Dean Winchester sighed as he lay down on the bed. 

It had been a rough week. Three hauntings, two demon possessions, and a vampire in a friggin’ pear tree had left him physically and mentally exhausted. Yet here he was, without a break as usual, already researching the next job.

Sam and Bobby had gone off to try and find some information on several strange disappearances that they were sure was the work of a werewolf. This left Dean with the fun task of going through old newspapers, so far though, he had turned up zilch. A minor road accident, two suicides and a small fire; no reported animal attacks before this week. He had nothing left to do but wait to see if they turned up anything.

Dean winced as he stretched his arms up behind his head. Sam had managed to patch up the eight inch gash on his stomach, but it was the little petty wounds that were still giving him trouble. The aches in his arms and legs, the pounding at the back of his head where the shovel had caught at just the wrong angle, the bruises and cuts on his bloodied knuckles, all bothered him far more than they would have a couple of years back.

Damn if he wasn’t getting too old for this. He was thirty man, thirty, hell when he was a teenager he had thought that anyone over the age of thirty qualified as a senior citizen.

 

Dean knew he wasn’t ready for that yet, but with each passing year, he felt his body start to let him know that as much as he wanted it to, his body couldn’t and wouldn’t handle this life forever. 

He reached for the bottle of JD on the dresser and started flicking through the cable channels. No matter how bad he felt, it wasn’t anything a few whiskeys and some bad cable T.V. wouldn’t fix. 

The quick movement he caught out of the corner of his eye had Dean out of bed with his gun drawn in a matter of seconds, all thoughts of aches and pains forgotten.

The dark shape in the corner of the room stumbled closer, and Dean tightened his index finger on the trigger.

As a truck drove by, illuminating the motel room brightly, Dean recognised the figure and felt himself relax. Great, this was all he needed right now, a visit from his holy pain in the ass.

Dean was sliding the gun back into the waistband of his jean, and was about to ask what the hell Cas wanted, when he realized that something wasn’t quite right.

For starters, the angel hadn’t said a word. That part wasn’t that unusual; at times the Castiel could make a nun in a library seem talkative. 

But it wasn’t just that, as Dean looked closer the angel seemed to be almost leaning against the wall, as if his body couldn’t take the weight. His eyes were closed and a faint sheen of sweat was building on his brow. He looked…… wounded, but that was impossible, what the fuck could hurt an angel?

Dean himself had shot the shit out of him on their first meeting, then stabbed him with Ruby’s knife, and the angel had just kept on coming.

“Cas?” Dean hesitantly stepped toward the angel. Castiel opened his mouth to answer him, but before anything could come out, the angel’s body sagged. Dean dashed forward and sank with Castiel to the floor, cradling the angel’s weight.

Something was horribly wrong; the angel’s body felt like it was on fire. Dean felt something warm and sticky, and when he looked down at his hands, they were covered in a silvery film that seemed to almost be glowing. 

“Shit!” Dean didn’t know what had happened but something told him, it wasn’t good.

He hoisted Castiel up in his arms, and felt a mixture of relief and guilt as a faint groan of pain slipped from the injured angel’s lips.

“It’s ok Cas, I got you.” As he lay Castiel down on the bed and ripped his shirt open, a quick glance showed Dean that it was even worse than he thought. 

There seemed to be what could only be described as a hole in Cas’s chest, the silvery liquid was pouring out of his chest, and his breathing was getting more and more laboured. Dean grabbed a shirt from the floor and pressed it against the wound, hoping to somehow stem the flow.

He knew it was useless when the shirt quickly became saturated. Dean felt the panic grow as he searched his brain for a solution.

As he felt the life force seep out of the angel, his fear turned to anger, heated words spilling out of his mouth at the supposed almighty.

What kind of God did this, allowed one of his own to die here, in a crummy dark thirty dollar a night motel room; alone, frightened and afraid. Dean didn’t even realise that he was talking out loud, until he heard Cas murmur something low and broken.

“Cas? Cas, can you hear me?” Dean leaned in closer.

The words were barely whispers and seemed to be taking every ounce of energy the angel had. Dean leaned in so close that he could feel Castiel’s breath tickle his ear.

“He didn’t leave me alone Dean…….. he sent me to you.”

Dean felt the fear explode within him when the angel lapsed into unconsciousness

He looked down at the angel and Dean did something that he hadn’t done since he was a child. 

He prayed.

He felt the words tumbling around in his mind, making little sense even to him. He prayed for god to hear him, to listen and send someone, anyone to help.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Dean felt the second angelic presence in the room almost immediately.

He was so relieved, that he didn’t bother to wonder at the sense of humour of a God, who would consider Uriel an answer to his prayers.

“Help him.” the words tumbled out of his mouth like a plea.

Uriel snarled under his breath and pushed Dean out of the way. Dean watched as Uriel gathered Castiel in his arms, and took a liquid out of his pocket and started to pour it onto the wound, muttering furiously under his breath. 

Dean felt relief course through him when he saw the flow of the silvery liquid pouring from Castiel start to ebb and the sides of the wound start to close themselves together. Within minutes, the only visible sign of a wound was a light silvery sheen on Castiels chest.

The angel and hunter stood in silence for a couple of moments. The weight of what had almost happened, hung in on the room, leaving them both incapable of speech. They stared at the angel on the bed, watching as his breathing slowed, the rise and fall of his chest become more steady. 

As the feeling of imminent danger finally passed, two relieved sighs echoed through the room, as they both released breaths they hadn’t been aware they were holding.

Within seconds however, the brief moment of unity was gone, and Dean felt Uriel's angry gaze upon him.

Dean hackles rose immediately.

“What holy fuck just happened here?” he demanded of the large angel.

“Don’t you blaspheme in front of me, you worthless little mud monkey,” Uriel retorted.

Dean was about to toss back an insult of his own when a strained voice made the words freeze in his throat.

“Stop it, both of you!” 

Dean turned to the bed and saw Castiel struggle to sit up, but before he could reach the bed, Uriel was already there. Uriel wrapped his arms around Castiel as he assisted him in sitting up. Dean felt a strange tug in his chest; something about the way Uriel lay with his arms wrapped around Castiel, bothered him.

“Easy brother,” Uriel spoke gently “You can’t take too much out of yourself, too soon, we almost lost you there.”

Dean felt a mixture of surprise and horror grow in the pit of his belly. Surprise at the gentleness that Uriel seemed to be exhibiting; it was a completely different side to the always angry angel he knew, and it sort of reminded Dean of the way he was with Sam when he was badly hurt. The horror was reserved for the growing knowledge of what had almost happened. Castiel had almost died, just minutes away from dying right in Dean’s arms.

Dean felt the bile rising at the back of his throat, as an image of a lifeless Cas flickered through his mind. 

“Will someone, anyone, mind telling me, what in the sam hell is going on here?” Dean demanded of the angels.

“We were in a battle,” Castiel began.

Uriel interrupted almost instantly, “Rest brother, I’ll fill in the details for the mu… for the human.”

Dean crossed his arms in front of his chest and turned to Uriel. “Ok chuckles, fill me in.”

“My brothers and I were in the middle of a battle. Over the last few weeks, we have had word of several demons, who have been trying to open a seal in the port of the heavenly scrolls of Isis.” At Dean’s look of confusion, he huffed. 

“I believe you know it better as Indiana.” the angel shook his head in disgust and continued. 

“Halfway through the battle, one of the demons pulled out a shira knife. He prepared to use it on Michael, when our little infant here,” Uriel’s large arms gestured towards Castiel, “Decided to jump in the way”. 

“Foolish child.” Uriel muttered. Castiel flushed, but a look of defiance lingered in his eyes.

“He is my brother.” Castiel replied simply

“It would have barely scratched Michael,” Uriel answered angrily. “But it ripped you open, and almost cut your grace clean away!”

Dean watched as Uriel breathed in and struggled to control his emotions. Turning back to Dean, he continued with the story, but the lingering fear and anger ran under every word.

“It should have killed him on the spot, but he suddenly just vanished. Michael sent us to find him, but we couldn’t find any strong sense of where he had gone, then suddenly father spoke to me and told me to come here. I arrived and found him here” with you.”

Dean shook his head, and tried to clear the horrific images that Uriel’s story had put into his head. Unfortunately they, along with the image of a dying Cas, were proving hard to banish from his mind.

“But now that you’ve fixed him, will he be all right?” Dean asked.

“I haven’t fixed him, all I’ve done is close the wound. It will be days, perhaps even weeks before he is out of any danger. As it stands, he is easy prey to any demon who comes after him.” Uriel’s hand hovered over Castiel head. For half a second, he looked like he almost wanted to shake him, instead, he smoothed Castiel’s hair away from his sweat soaked face.

Dean stared at the angel on the bed, but he appeared to have passed out again. His breathing, although better than it had been, was still shallow and his colour was pale. He looked like one good gust of wind could take him out, never mind a few hell sent demons.

Dean finally decided he’d had enough. He squared his shoulders and stepping forward poked his index finger at the surly angel. “Well how about you pull your finger out your ass and send him home” Dean angrily gestured towards the sleeping Castiel on the bed, “then where it’s safe. Because if anyone gets wind of this, it’s going to be feeding time at the zoo.”

Uriel looked at him scornfully. “I can’t send him back home like this, half his grace or more is gone; he wouldn’t survive the trip.”

“So what the hell are you going to do with him then?” Dean shouted, his temper rising “Are you just gonna leave him down on earth to rot, with a big target painted on him, faster demon pussy cat, kill, kill? He’s supposed to be one of your own, you son of a bitch. You can’t just leave him here to die!”

“Enough!” Uriel roared. “You foul, stinking waste of air, how dare you talk to me about abandoning my brother. Castiel is one of the heavenly host, you insolent half breed! My brother and blood; he has been one of mine since before the fall of the morning star, before…”

“All right,” Dean interrupted. “All right, I get it.”

“No seriously,” Dean put his hands up in a conciliatory gesture. “I’m sorry, what I said was wrong, he’s your family and you’ll protect him. I get that, trust me. But we still have to decide what we’re going to do. You can’t just leave him here on earth, unprotected.”

“He won’t be unprotected.” Uriel answered.

“He won’t?” Dean asked “Who the hell is going to…?”

Dean froze as Uriel’s meaning dawned on him.

“Uh… Uh, no way. I like Cas as much as the next dude, but I ain’t no freakin babysitter.”

“He came to you.” Uriel stated. Echoing Dean’s earlier gesture he pointed a beefy finger into Dean’s chest. “For whatever reason, or lack thereof, he chose to come here. He obviously trusted you to help him. He chose you, so he is your responsibility. You will keep him rested. No strenuous activities, no battles. He doesn’t require food or any of your earthly needs; all he will require is rest. As his strength picks up and his soul is calmed, his grace will restore itself.”

“When.” Dean interrupted. He realised that Uriel was right, this was his responsibility. But man, this was so not in his plans right now. “When will he be fit enough to go home?”

Uriel shrugged. “Who knows? It depends on how much rest he gets, hopefully a couple of weeks.”

“A couple of weeks. You’ve got to be kidding me, we’re in the middle of a job here, Judging by the way things are going the last few months, after this one, we’ll be moving right onto the next one. As much as I like Cas, we don’t have time to play babysitter.” Dean scowled at Uriel, the frustration on his face clear.

“You don’t have any option.” Uriel replied. “We aren’t on a job Winchester. We’re fighting a war, a never ending, and ever moving war. We don’t get sleep breaks, we don’t get time off. When Castiel isn’t risking his life on a daily basis to save this putrid cess pit of a planet, he is here, with you, watching over you. Now it is time for you to return his kindness. He came to you for protection, and that is exactly what you will give him. Be warned, I will be watching you.”

Before Dean could retort, the angel vanished.

“Aw, come on you son of a bitch, you have got to be kidding me!”

Dean sank onto the chair.

“I’ll be watching you!!” Dean snorted. “Seriously, who says that?”

Resting his elbows on his knees, he buried his face in his hands.

Dean sighed and stared over at the sleeping angel on the bed. 

He was going to have fun explaining this to Bobby and Sam.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

“Checkmate!” Sam crowed. 

Dean looked over at his brother's exclamation.

Sam and Castiel were sitting at the table poring over a game of chess. Sam looked delighted with his victory; not surprising, as it was his first. He had been playing Castiel every night for the last week, and had been severely trounced each time.

Castiel smiled. “Congratulations, Sam. That was a very interesting game.”

Dean headed over towards them. “By interesting, you mean he cheated?”

“I did not,” Sam interjected loudly. “I won fair and square.”

“Relax Sammy, cheating is still winning. It’s winning with style.”

Dean grinned at Castiel, “What do you think Cas?”

Castiel smiled at Dean. “I wholeheartedly disagree, both on your definition of cheating, and also that Sam did so. He won fair and square.”

“See?” Sam huffed in agreement. Happily vindicated, he started putting away the chess pieces.

Dean smirked. “Boring ass game anyway; give me a game of strip poker any day.”

“Ok,” Castiel answered.

“Huh?” Dean looked at Castiel. “Ok what?”

“Ok, you don’t want to play my game so I’ll play yours.” Castiel met Dean’s eyes, a gleam of amusement and something less definable in his eyes.

“Cas, do you even know what strip poker is?” Dean asked.

Before he could reply, Sam chuckled. “Of course he doesn’t Dean, otherwise, he wouldn’t have agreed to it.”

Sam started explaining strip poker to Castiel, laughing as moved onto a story about a time Dean managed to lose $400, all of his clothes and two of his favourite credit cards, in a game of strip poker.

“Aw, shut it,” Dean replied. “She was epic hot, well worth the $400.”

Dean settled into the armchair, ignoring Sam’s snort. He supposed that he should be glad that his brother and Castiel were finally getting on so well.

Sam had not reacted with much enthusiasm, on returning to find them on babysitting duty. 

His treatment at the hands of the angels, coupled with the knowledge that every day they were nursing Castiel back to health, would be a day for Lilith and her armies to grow stronger was knowledge that did not sit well with Sam. 

As a result, in the beginning, the majority of nursing the invalid angel had been left to Dean.

But on the fourth day, Dean had gone on a quick food run, leaving Castiel in Sam’s care. 

He had been desperate to escape the motel room even if it was just for an hour, he needed to feel the wheel of the Impala under his curled fingers and the open road in front of him. Dean had never been made for a confined life; he needed space and freedom. So he had ignored Sam’s whining about being left with nurse duties, and headed out.

When Dean had come back, he had known at once that something had changed. 

It wasn’t that Sam was sitting next to the bed, chatting to Castiel about some book that Sam had been reading, although that in itself as strange. There was a change in the air, between the time Dean had left and returned; there had been a shift in the attitudes and feelings of his brother and the angel. It was obvious in the calm look in Castiel's eyes and the almost relaxed set of Sam’s shoulders.

He had never asked what had happened but from that day he had more trouble keeping Sam and the angel apart than trying to force Sam to look after him.

They were forever, playing chess or discussing books, or having a laugh at one of Dean’s less than stellar adventures.

Not that it bothered him or anything. It was good that they were getting on so well, he was glad that Sammy was finally having a positive experience with an angel who wasn’t a complete dick.

Dean heard Castiel’s murmured voice, low and heavy, followed by Sam’s deep chuckle and felt a flicker of annoyance run through him.

No, it didn’t bother him at all.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dean could feel Castiel’s eyes on him as he shoved his clothes into the duffle. 

It had been decided that they should head to a new motel.

Castiel had regained much of his strength over the last few weeks and, it was always dangerous staying in the same place too long. It gave demons a chance to get a lead on them way too easily.

He had already packed Sam’s stuff and their weapons, now it was just a matter of packing his own things and the few things that they had got for Cas, into a bag and they were good to go.

Dean could feel the heat rising on his neck as the angel continued to stare.

“What?” Dean finally demanded, looking up to meet the angel’s eyes. “Why the hell do you keep staring at me like that? It creeps me the fuck out.”

“You’re angry at me.” Castiel replied. “Why?”

“I’m not angry,” Dean answered with a quick shake of his head. “It just freaks me out when you do that staring thing.”

“No,” the angel replied “You are angry at me; you have been angry at me for days, why? Have I upset you?” 

Dean looked at Castiel flummoxed, the angel looked genuinely concerned.

“You’re imagining things Cas.” Dean insisted. “I’m not angry at you, why would I be angry at you? Hell, I’ve barely seen you. You’ve been with Sam.” 

Dean started shoving clothes in the duffle more roughly that he had meant to. He groaned as he felt a tear in fabric.

“Shit,” he muttered. He sighed as he looked at the tear on the white shirt; it had been one of favorites.

“Is that what’s upsetting you?” Castiel asked.

Dean looked at the angel. “What, my t-shirt? No I’m not upset, just pissed off. I liked that shirt.”

Dean had seen the growing frustration on Castiel’s face as he struggled to put words to the thoughts whirling in his head.

“No.” Castiel replied, “My relationship with your brother. Is that what is upsetting you? I thought you would be happy we were getting along. I made such an effort because I thought you would be more relaxed if Sam and I were—friends.”

Dean snorted. “Yeah, you look like you’ve been putting in a whole lot of effort into liking each other, you and Sammy. Hell you’ve barely spent two minutes apart the last four days. It must be a real effort for both of you.” Dean was surprised at the words, even as they came out of his mouth. Damn, when had he turned into such a whiny little bitch?

“So that is what is bothering you.” Castiel replied “You’re upset at the time I’ve been spending with Sam. Why Dean?” Castiel moved closer as he asked the question. He was close enough now, that Dean could feel his warm breath fanning against the side of his face.

“I don’t have a clue what you’re talking about,” Dean retorted. “It’s good you’re getting along with Sam. I’m glad that you’ve finally realised he’s not some fuckin’ demon spawn.”

“No he’s not,” Castiel agreed. “I agree that this time has been good for us, I have enjoyed getting to know Sam.”

Dean felt his breath catch slightly as the feelings that had been bothering him over the last few days, returned ten times worse than it had been. He was jealous He couldn’t believe it himself, but there it was. He was jealous. But he was damned if he was going to admit it.

He moved closer to the bed to put some distance between himself and Castiel.

“Good” he stated firmly. “I’m glad you and Sam have gotten to know each other, at least you see all humans aren’t like me. Some of them are worth saving.”

“You’re right” Castiel replied “Sam is nothing like you.”

Dean felt his chest constrict so sharply he was having problems getting his breath out properly. 

“Good” he said again, trying to force the words past lips that seem to have stiffened up, and were no longer capable of forming of coherent words.

Dean turned and found Castiel had moved closer again. He was now chest to chest with the angel. Castiel’s face, less than a few inches away.

Dean flinched slightly, as the angels hand came up and gently cupped the left side of his face. His touch was gentle, almost reverent, and Dean inwardly snorted at the thought. Castiel was the heavenly being here; if anyone should be worshipful, it should be Dean.

“Sam is nothing like you, but I didn’t need Sam to teach me that humans were worth saving. I knew that the minute I met you.” Dean met Castiel’s eyes, looking for some indication of deceit. But the angel met his gaze steadily, sincerity and warmth shining in his eyes, as his thumb slowly stroked Dean’s cheek.

Dean felt his head start to spin as he tried to think of a comeback to ease the tension that filled the room. He could feel the roughness of Castiel’s fingertips at his cheek, his nerve-endings stretching with each stroke. He worried that whatever he said might make him take his hand away, and whatever else he was confused about right now, he knew he didn’t want that.

“When I first set eyes on you, I understood everything my father had ever preached to us about humans. Your beauty, your grace, your humanity, all tangled up in a soul so pure but almost broken with that place. You stood out in hell, like a wild flower in the middle of the desert.” 

Castiel brought his other hand up and cupped Dean’s face gently.

“Then when you returned, everything they had done to you, everything they had asked you to do. It should have broken you Dean. There should have nothing left of the soul you once held. Yet you have held on, you have regained your humanity, your will to help people. Do you know how rare that is Dean? For someone, anyone to regain their humanity, after spending so long in a place that is starved of everything human?”

“Now I’ll ask you again, Dean. Why? Why does it bother you when I spend time with Sam?”

Dean licked his lips hoping to try and cure the dryness that had suddenly appeared. He saw Castiel’s eyes flick down and watch the movement.

He watched as Castiel’s pupils dilated, the black almost drowning out the clear blue and he felt his heart start to pound in his chest.

He wanted to form the words, but nothing in his head made any sense anymore, all he could do was feel. 

Before he could even let out the strangled gulp that was gathering in this throat, he felt Castiel’s lips meet his own and any thought of words flew from his head completely. 

The kiss was unlike anything he had ever experienced before, it was harder, the lips firmer than the soft lips of girls he was used too, everything felt rougher, stronger, more real

As Castiel pulled away, Dean was unable to prevent the soft groan that left his mouth. His head moved forward of its own accord, to capture those lips again.

“Dean? Are you sure?” Castiel’s voice was soft, questioning. “I don’t want you to do anything you’re not completely sure—“

Before Cas could finish the sentence, Dean curled his hands into fists in the man’s t-shirt. In one swift, sure movement, he backed the angel up against the wall.

“Don’t you dare stop” Dean growled before covering the angel’s lips again with his own.

This time the kiss was hot, furious. Dean felt Castiel’s mouth open up under his own and he deepened the kiss, his tongue, sliding gently into Castiel’s mouth, tasting the sweetness within.

He groaned again as Castiel’s lips left his. But his words of complaint died in his throat, as Castiels mouth slid down his neck. As they slowly manoeuvred their way onto the bed, their kisses deepened. As they sank onto the bed, all words were forgotten. 

Much later, his last thought before oblivion came was that he finally understood the expression “died and gone to heaven”.

He had just never expected to learn it from an angel.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Epilogue

It had been seven weeks this time. It was the longest they had ever gone with no contact. The war had been won. Together, he and Dean, had stood side by side with their respective brothers and beaten back the forces of hell.

He would have been surprised at the outcome once. But since meeting Dean Winchester, nothing this man was capable of could surprise him.

Castiel felt his heart fill with the love he felt for the man before him. He would have given up everything for him, always. If Dean had asked it of him, he would have fallen from grace in a heartbeat, just to make him happy. 

But Dean knew him better than anyone. He knew the pain it would have caused him to abandon his family so he had never asked. That was part of what made Castiel love Dean. His desire to put everyone he loved before himself.

Castiel saw the man stir slightly in his sleep; he wondered if he knew that his brother had gone. Sam had woken up almost immediately after Castiel had appeared; no words had needed to be exchanged. Sam had smiled and Castiel heard him whisper on his way out the door. 

“He’s missed you.”

 

~The End~


End file.
